The Boys of '98

“ ‘We finally located the trenches, and could see the officers moving about urging their men. The enemy was making a turning movement to the right. To turn the left of the Spanish position it was necessary to get a blockhouse, which held the right of our line. General Chaffee detailed Captain Clark to approach and occupy this blockhouse as soon as the artillery had sufficiently harried its Spanish defenders.

“ ‘Clark and Captain Haskell started up the slope. I told them I had been on the ridge and knew the condition of affairs, so I would show them the way.

“ ‘We pushed right up to the trench around the fort, and, getting out our wire-cutters, severed the barbed wire in front of it. I jumped over the severed strand and got into the trench.

“ ‘It was a horrible, blood-splashed thing, and an inferno of agony. Many men lay dead, with gleaming teeth, and hands clutching their throats. Others were crawling there alive.

“ ‘I shouted to the survivors to surrender, and they held up their hands.

“ ‘Then I ran into the fort and found there a Spanish officer and four men alive, while seven lay dead in one room. The whole floor ran with blood. Blood splashed all the walls. It was a perfect hog-pen of butchery.

“ ‘Three poor wretches put their hands together in supplication. One had a white handkerchief tied on a stick. This he lifted and moved toward me. The other held up his hands, while the third began to pray and plead.

“ ‘I took the guns from all three and threw them outside the fort. Then I called some of our men and put them in charge of the prisoners.

“ ‘I then got out of the fort, ran around to the other side, and secured the Spanish flag. I displayed it to our troops, and they cheered lustily.

“ ‘Just as I turned to speak to Captain Haskell I was struck by a bullet from the trenches on the Spanish side.’ ”

Before five o’clock, on the morning of July 2d, the crew of the flag-ship New York was astir, eating a hurried breakfast.

At 5.50 general quarters was sounded, and the flag-ship headed in toward Aguadores, about three miles east of Morro Castle. The other ships retained their blockading stations. Along the surf-beaten shore the smoke of an approaching train from Altares was seen. It was composed of open cars full of General Duffield’s troops.

At a cutting a mile east of Aguadores the train stopped, and the Cuban scouts proceeded along the railroad track. The troops got out of the cars, and soon formed in a long, thin line, standing out vividly against the yellow rocks that rose perpendicularly above, shutting them off from the main body of the army, which was on the other side of the hill, several miles north.

From the quarter of the flag-ship there was a signal, by a vigorously wigwagged letter, and a few minutes later, from a clump of green at the water’s edge, came an answer from the army. This was the first coöperation for offensive purposes between the army and navy. The landing of the army at Daiquiri and Altares was purely a naval affair.

With the flag in his hand, the soldier ashore looked like a butterfly.

“Are you waiting for us to begin?” was the signal made by Rear-Admiral Sampson to the army.

“General Duffield is ahead with the scouts,” came the answer from the shore to the flag-ship.

By this time it was seven A. M. The admiral ran the flag-ship’s bow within three-quarters of a mile of the beach. She remained almost as near during the forenoon, and the daring way she was handled by Captain Chadwick, within sound of the breakers, made the Cuban pilot on board stare with astonishment.

The Suwanee was in company with the flag-ship, still closer inshore, and the Gloucester was to the westward, near Morro Castle. From the southward the Newark came up and took a position to the westward. Her decks were black with fifteen hundred or more troops.

She went alongside of the flag-ship, and was told to disembark the troops at Altares.

Then Admiral Sampson signalled to General Duffield:

“When do you want us to commence firing?”

In a little while a white flag on shore sent back the answer:

“When the rest of the command arrives; then I will signal you.”

It was a long and tedious wait for the ships before the second fifty car-loads of troops came puffing along from Altares.

By 9.30 the last of the soldiers had left the open railroad tracks, disappearing in the thick brush that covered the eastern side of Aguadores inlet.

The water in the sponge tubes under the breeches of the big guns was growing hot in the burning sun.

Ashore there was no sign of the Spaniards. They were believed to be on the western bluff.

Between the bluffs ran a rocky gully, leading into Santiago City. On the extremity of the western arm was an old castellated fort, from which the Spanish flag was flying, and on the parapet on the eastern hill, commanding the gully, two stretches of red earth could easily be seen against the brush. These were the rifle-pits.

At 10.15 a signal-flag ashore wigwagged to Admiral Sampson to commence firing, and a minute later the New York’s guns blazed away at the rifle-pits and at the old fort.

The Suwanee and Gloucester joined in the firing.

Of our troops ashore in the brush nothing could be seen, but the ping, ping, of the small arms of the army floated out to sea during the occasional lull in the firing of the big guns, which peppered the rifle-pits until clouds of red earth rose above them.

An 8-inch shell from the Newark dropped in the massive old fort, and clouds of white dust and huge stones filled the air. When the small shells hit its battlements, almost hidden by green creepers, fragments of masonry came tumbling down. A shot from the Suwanee hit the eastern parapet, and it crumbled away. Amid the smoke and débris, the flagstaff was seen to fall forward.

“The flag has been shot down!” shouted the ship’s crew, but, when the smoke cleared away, the emblem of Spain was seen to be still flying and blazing brilliantly in the sun, though the flagstaff was bending toward the earth.

A few more shots from the Suwanee levelled the battlements until the old castle was a pitiful sight.

When the firing ceased, Lieutenant Delehanty of the Suwanee was anxious to finish his work, so he signalled to the New York, asking permission to knock down the Spanish flag.

“Yes,” replied Admiral Sampson, “if you can do it in three shots.”

The Suwanee then lay about sixteen hundred yards from the old fort. She took her time. Lieutenant Blue carefully aimed the 4-inch gun, and the crews of all the ships watched the incident amid intense excitement.

When the smoke of the Suwanee’s first shot cleared away, only two red streamers of the flag were left. The shell had gone through the centre of the bunting.

A delighted yell broke from the crew of the Suwanee.

Two or three minutes later the Suwanee fired again, and a huge cloud of débris rose from the base of the flagstaff.

For a few seconds it was impossible to tell what had been the effect of the shot. Then it was seen that the shell had only added to the ruin of the fort.

The flagstaff seemed to have a charmed existence, and the Suwanee only had one charge left. It seemed hardly possible for her to achieve her object with the big gun, such a distance, and such a tiny target.

There was breathless silence among the watching crews. They crowded on the ships’ decks, and all eyes were on that tattered flag, bending toward the top of what had once been a grand old castle. But it was only bending, not yet down. Lieutenant-Commander Delehanty and Lieutenant Blue took their time. The Suwanee changed her position slightly.

Then a puff of smoke shot out from her side, up went a shooting cloud of débris from the parapet, and down fell the banner of Spain.

Such yells from the flag-ship will probably never be heard again. There was more excitement than witnessed at the finish of a college boat-race, or a popular race between first-class thoroughbreds on some big track.

The Suwanee’s last shot had struck right at the base of the flagstaff, and had blown it clear of the wreckage, which had held it from finishing its fall.

“Well done!” signalled Admiral Sampson to Lieutenant-Commander Delehanty.

At 11.30 General Duffield signalled that his scouts reported that no damage had been done to the Spanish rifle-pits by the shells from the ships, and Admiral Sampson told him they had been hit several times, but that there was no one in the pits. However, the Suwanee was ordered to fire a few more shots in their direction.

At 12.18 P. M. the New York having discontinued fire at Aguadores, commenced firing 8-inch shells clear over the gully into the city of Santiago de Cuba. Every five minutes the shells went roaring over the hillside. What destruction they wrought it was impossible to tell, as the smoke hid everything. In reply to General Duffield’s question:

“What is the news?”

Admiral Sampson replied:

“There is not a Spaniard left in the rifle-pits.”

Later General Duffield signalled that his scouts thought reinforcements were marching to the battered old fort, and Admiral Sampson wigwagged him:

“There is no Spaniard left there. If any come the Gloucester will take care of them.”

A little later the Oregon joined the New York intending 8-inch shells into the city of Santiago. This was kept up until 1.40 P. M. By that time General Duffield had sent a message saying that his troops could not cross the stream, but would return to Altares.

On the report that some Spanish troops were still in the gully, the New York and Gloucester shelled it once more, and Newark, which had not fired, signalled:

“Can I fire for target practice? Have had no previous opportunity.”

Permission for her to do so was signalled, and she blazed away, shooting well, her 6-inch shells exploding with remarkable force among the rocks.

At 2.40 P. M. Admiral Sampson hoisted the signal to cease firing, and the flag-ship returned to the blockading station.

On the railroad a train-load of troops had already left for Altares.

Mr. A. Maurice Low, of the Boston Globe, thus relates his personal experience:

“When the fighting ceased on Friday evening, July 1st, every man was physically spent, and needed food and rest more than anything else. For a majority of the troops there was a chance to cook bacon and make coffee; for the men of the hospital corps, the work of the day was commencing. At convenient points hospitals were established, and men from every company were sent out to search the battle-ground for the dead and wounded.

“It is the men of the hospital corps who have the ghastly side of war. There is never any popular glory for them; there is no passion of excitement to sustain them. The emotion of battle keeps a man up under fire. Something in the air makes even a coward brave. But all that is wanting when the surgeons go into action.

“Men come staggering into the hospital with blood dripping from their wounds; squads of four follow one another rapidly, bearing stretchers and blankets, on which are limp, motionless, groaning forms.

“To those of us at home who are in the habit of seeing our sick and injured treated with the utmost consideration and delicacy, who see the poor and outcast and criminal put into clean beds and surrounded with luxuries, the way in which the wounded on a battle-field are disposed of seems barbarous in the extreme. Of course it is unavoidable, but it is nevertheless horrible.

“As soon as men were brought in they were at once taken off the litters and placed on the bare ground. Time was too precious, and there were too many men needing attention for a soldier to monopolise a stretcher until the surgeon could reach him.

“There was no shelter. The men lay on the bare ground with the sun streaming down on them, many of them suffering the greatest agony, and yet very few giving utterance to a groan. Where I watched operations for a time there was only one surgeon, who took every man in his turn, and necessarily had to make many of them wait a long time.

“And yet these men were much more fortunate than many others, some of whom lay on the battle-field for twenty-four hours before they were found. There was no chloroform; very little of anything to numb pain. Painful gunshot wounds were dressed hastily, almost roughly, until ambulances could be sent out to take the men to the divisional hospitals in the rear.

“It is claimed that the hospital arrangements were inadequate, and that many regiments went into action without a surgeon. From what I saw I think the criticism to be justified. Naturally the wounded were taken care of first, – the last duties to the dead could be performed later.

“It was ghastly as one moved over the battle-field to come across an upturned face lying in a pool of blood, to see what was once a man, bent, and twisted, and doubled. And still more horrible was it as the moonlight fell over the field, and at unexpected places one ran against this fruit of war and saw faces in the pallor of death made even more ghostlike by the light, while the inevitable sea of crimson stood out in more startling vividness by the contrast.

“We had won the battle, but our position was a somewhat precarious one.

“Our line was long and thin, and there was a danger of the Spaniards breaking through and attacking us in the rear or left flank. To guard against this possibility, Lawton’s division at El Caney was ordered to move on to El Pozo, and Kent’s division was under orders to draw in its left. The men who had fought at El Caney were hoping to be allowed to sleep on the battle-field and obtain the rest which they so badly needed, but after supper they were placed under arms and the march commenced.

“The Seventh U. S. Infantry led. It was a weird march. Immediately after leaving El Caney we crossed an open field, a skirmish line was thrown out, and the men were commanded to maintain absolute silence. We were in the heart of the enemy’s country, and caution was necessary.

“After crossing this field we came to a deep gully through which ran a swift stream almost knee-deep. Our way led across this stream, and there was only one means of getting over. That was to plunge in and splash through. Tired as we all were, after getting thoroughly wet our feet felt like lead, and marching was perfect torture. Still there was no let-up.

“We pressed steadily forward until we came to where the road forked off. Our directions had not been very explicit, we had no maps, and our commander took the road which he thought was the right one. It soon led between high banks of dense growth of chaparral on either side. The moon had disappeared behind the clouds, and had the Spaniards wanted to ambuscade us we were at their mercy.

“I will not say that we were nervous, exactly, but I think we would all rather have been out of that lane. The fear that your enemy may be crouching behind bushes, that you know nothing of his presence until he pours a rifle fire into you, is rather trying on the nerves.

“The command was frequently halted for the officers to consult, and after we had gone about a mile they concluded they were on the wrong road, and went to the right about. When we came out where we had started we found Brigadier-General Chaffee sitting silent on a big horse and watching a seemingly never-ending line of men marching past him. We fell into position and pushed on the road to Santiago.

“How long we marched that night I cannot tell. It seemed interminable. My watch had run down and no one around me had the time. Finally we were ordered to halt, and the men were told to stack arms, take off their packs, and rest.

“I dropped my blanket roll, which seemed to me weighed not less than two hundred pounds, on the muddy road, and sat down to rest. The next thing I knew some one tapped me on the shoulder. It was three o’clock, and I had been asleep for some hours. The regiment was again under arms, and was receiving ammunition from a pack-train which had come up from the rear. We pressed on until early dawn, when we were well in front of Santiago. Entrenchments were hastily thrown up, and we were ready for the enemy. The enemy did not give us much time for rest. They made an assault upon our position early in the morning, which we repulsed…

“While the Spaniards were unable to dislodge us, they succeeded in forcing our artillery back, which had taken a position that subjected it to a withering infantry fire. Later in the day this position was recovered and entrenchments thrown up, which, it was claimed, made the position impregnable. The guns were so placed they could do tremendous destruction.

“There was a lull that afternoon, but in the evening the Spaniards opened up an attack along our entire line, with the intention, evidently, of taking us by surprise and rushing us out of our entrenchments. But their purpose was a failure.”

General Lawton, in his report after the assault upon and the capture of El Caney by his division during the first day’s fighting, says:

“It may not be out of place to call attention to this peculiar phase of the battle.

“It was fought against an enemy fortified and entrenched within a compact town of stone and concrete houses, some with walls several feet thick, and supported by a number of covered solid stone forts, and the enemy continued to resist until nearly every man was killed or wounded, with a seemingly desperate resolution.”

It was Sergeant McKinnery, of Company B, Ninth Infantry, who shot and disabled General Linares, the commander of the Spanish forces in Santiago. The Spanish general was hit about an hour after San Juan Hill was taken, during the first day’s fighting. The American saw a Spaniard, evidently a general officer, followed by his staff, riding frantically about the Spanish position, rallying his men.

Sergeant McKinnery asked Lieutenant Wiser’s permission to try a shot at the officer, and greatly regretted to find the request refused. Major Bole was consulted. He acquiesced, with the injunction that no one else should fire. Sergeant McKinnery slipped a shell into his rifle, adjusted the sights for one thousand yards, and fired. The shell fell short. Then he put in another, raised the sights for another one thousand yards, took careful aim, and let her go. The officer on the white horse threw up his arms and fell forward.

“That is for Corporal Joyce,” said McKinnery as he saw that his ball had reached the mark. The officer on the white horse was General Linares himself. It was afterward learned that he was shot in the left shoulder. He immediately relinquished the command to General Toral.

On the evening of July 3d, General Shafter sent the following cablegram to the War Department:

“Headquarters Fifth Army Corps,“Near Santiago.

“To-night my lines completely surrounded the town from beyond the north of the city to point of San Juan River on the south. The enemy holds from west bend San Juan River at its mouth up the railroad to the city. General Pando, I find to-night, is some distance away, and will not get into Santiago.

(Signed) “Shafter.”

July 4th Secretary Alger received the communication given below:

“Headquarters Fifth Army Corps, July 3.

“The following is my demand for the surrender of the city of Santiago:

“ ‘Headquarters U. S. Forces, Near San Juan River, Cuba,July 3, 1898, 8.30 A. M.

“ ‘To the Commanding General of the Spanish Forces, Santiago de Cuba.

“ ‘Sir: – I shall be obliged, unless you surrender, to shell Santiago de Cuba. Please inform the citizens of foreign countries and all women and children that they should leave the city before ten o’clock to-morrow morning. Very respectfully,

“ ‘Your obedient servant,“ ‘W. R. Shafter,“ ‘Major-General, U. S. A.’

“Following is the Spanish reply which Colonel Dorst has returned at 6.30 P. M.:

“ ‘Santiago de Cuba, 2 P. M., July 3, 1898.

“ ‘His Excellency, the General Commanding Forces of United States, San Juan River.

“ ‘Sir: – I have the honour to reply to your communication of to-day, written at 8.30 A. M. and received at 1 P. M., demanding the surrender of this city; on the contrary case announcing to me that you will bombard this city, and that I advise the foreigners, women, and children that they must leave the city before ten o’clock to-morrow morning. It is my duty to say to you that this city will not surrender, and that I will inform the foreign consuls and inhabitants of the contents of your message.

“ ‘Very respectfully,“ ‘Jose Toral,“ ‘Commander-in-chief, Fourth Corps.’

“The British, Portuguese, Chinese, and Norwegian consuls have come to my line with Colonel Dorst. They ask if non-combatants can occupy the town of Caney and railroad points, and ask until ten o’clock of fifth instant before city is fired on. They claim that there are between fifteen thousand and twenty thousand people, many of them old, who will leave. They ask if I can supply them with food, which I cannot do for want of transportation to Caney, which is fifteen miles from my landing. The following is my reply:

“ ‘The Commanding General Spanish Forces,

“ ‘Santiago de Cuba.

“ ‘Sir: – In consideration of the request of the consuls and officers in your city for delay in carrying out my intention to fire on the city, and in the interest of the poor women and children, who will suffer very greatly by their hasty and enforced departure from the city, I have the honour to announce that I will delay such action solely in their interest until noon of the fifth, providing, during the interval, your forces make no demonstration whatever upon those of my own. I am, with great respect,

“ ‘Your obedient servant,“ ‘W. R. Shafter,“ ‘Major-General U. S. A.’(Signed) “Shafter,“Major-General Commanding.”

CHAPTER XII.

THE SPANISH FLEET

“Don’t cheer; the poor devils are dying.”

It was Sunday morning (July 3d), and the American squadron lay off Santiago Harbour intent only on blockade duty. No signs of life were visible about old Morro. Beyond and toward the city all was still. After two days of fighting the armies of both nations were resting in their trenches.

The fleet had drifted three miles or more from the land. The battle-ship Massachusetts, the protected cruiser New Orleans, and Commodore Watson’s flag-ship, the cruiser Newark, were absent, coaling fifty miles or more away.

Shortly before nine o’clock Admiral Sampson, desiring to ascertain the exact condition of the Spanish coast defences about Aguadores, ordered the flag-ship to go that way, and after flying the signal, “Disregard the motions of the commander-in-chief,” the New York steamed leisurely off to the eastward.

The little Gloucester lay nearest the shore; the Vixen was opposite in a straight line, and to the eastward of her about five miles. A mile or less from the Gloucester, to the seaward, was the Indiana. Nearly as far from the latter ship, and southeast of her, lay the Oregon. The Iowa was the outermost ship of the fleet, lying four miles from the harbour entrance; next her, to the eastward, each vessel slightly nearer inshore, were the Texas and the Brooklyn in the order named.

Shoreward, inside the harbour, could be seen a long line of black smoke. On board the fleet religious services were being held, but the lookouts of every ship were at their stations.

Suddenly, at about half past nine, a dark hull was seen coming out past the point of the harbour, and instantly all was seemingly confusion on the big fighting machines.

“The enemy is escaping,” was the signal run up on Commodore Schley’s flag-ship, and within a few seconds the roar of a 6-pounder on the Iowa broke the stillness of the Sabbath morning.

It was as if every American vessel was put in motion at the same instant, and even as the flag-ship’s signal appeared, the clouds of dense smoke from their stacks told that the men in the furnace-rooms had already begun their portion of the task so unexpectedly set for all the fleet.

John R. Spear, author of “The History of our Navy,” who was with Sampson’s fleet, wrote this complete story of the marvellous naval battle off Santiago and along the southern shore of Cuba, for the World: